


Impulsive Acts and Comeuppance

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ALL THE LEMONS AHAHAHA, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Jobs, Lemon, M/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wall Sex, Who Needs a Plot Anyway, aziraphale totally kills him with fluff, crowley is an impulsive idiot who totally needs to think before he does stuff sometimes, fluffy talk, i haven't written porn in a while forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: Crowley pins him to the wall, yeah, because Crowley’s good at impulsive acts that result in angels-being-pinned-to-walls-with-their-heads-still-sort-of-gently-cushioned-by-a-demony-hand. Aziraphale is just a bit shorter than him so the angel has to crane his head up to stare at Crowley who has to angle his head a little bit down to stare at Aziraphale. It’s very balanced. They meet in the middle.Literally.So here is Anthony the-demon-from-hell, “just a J really” Crowley pinning Aziraphale, Principality, former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, to a wall with a thigh pressing between Aziraphale’s legs and it’s all very hot and bother-y which is Nice and Enjoyable for them both. However.“You are absolutelysublimedarling.”





	Impulsive Acts and Comeuppance

**Author's Note:**

> So I got [this](https://obaewankenope.tumblr.com/post/186170619762/have-we-considered-crowley-trying-to-be-dom-like) awesome ask on tumblr about Crowley pinning Aziraphale to a wall and then just- getting pinned instead and I loved it and thus I wrote it. Help me, I've Fallen and I'm totally unforgivable xD
> 
> Anon: _❝ Have we considered Crowley trying to be Dom like in the wall scene but the Az just like says something or does something that makes Crowley immediately weak at the knees and desperate to get fucked but then Az just kinda ignores it and continues the day like normal with Crowley tagging along behind him like a puppy until they get home and Az finally lets the stress be dealt with? ~fucker ❞_

Crowley pins him to the wall, yeah, because Crowley’s good at impulsive acts that result in angels-being-pinned-to-walls-with-their-heads-still-sort-of-gently-cushioned-by-a-demony-hand. Aziraphale is just a bit shorter than him so the angel has to crane his head up to stare at Crowley who has to angle his head a little bit down to stare at Aziraphale. It’s very balanced. They meet in the middle.

_Literally._

So here is Anthony the-demon-from-hell, “just a J really” Crowley pinning Aziraphale, Principality, former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, to a wall with a thigh pressing between Aziraphale’s legs and it’s all very hot and bother-y which is Nice and Enjoyable for them both. However.

“You are absolutely _sublime_ darling.”

Anthony “just a J” Crowley forgets that Aziraphale is in love with him and chooses to be kind and polite and Very Free With His Compliments When He Wishes To Be and Anthony the-demon-from-hell-who-isn’t-nice Crowley all but goes weak at the knees and clings a whole lot tighter to the lapels of Aziraphale’s two-hundred-year-old beige jacket. To be fair to Crowley, he had intended to get off on this whole pinning-an-angel-to-the-wall-with-his-body thing but he hadn’t really counted on Aziraphale using Sneaky Methods Of Undoing Him against the demon.

Silly, silly demon.

“Ngk,” Crowley presses his head down into the crook of Crowley’s shoulder, breath hot and heavy on the bit of angelic neck not covered by bloody _layers_. He screw his eyes shut even as he presses more firmly against Aziraphale who just lets him all but try to slither inside his presence. The demon is thrown off-centre, balance just a little off and it’s enough really. Enough to lose the upperhand in this interaction and that is when things _change_.

Because Crowley is no longer the one pressing Aziraphale against the wall with his body and his will and his desire. Suddenly Crowley is the one being turned by a body of unexpected strength in a move that is revealing of the warrior skill hidden beneath Soft and next thing Anthony “just a J” Crowley knows is he’s the one with his head pressed back against the wall, body blanketed in the warm burning of angelic Will and a thigh pressing between his legs far more insistently than Crowley’s thigh had pressed only moments before.

It’s no fault of Crowley’s that he lets out a loud moan at it all now, is it? Not at all, no.

“You really are sublime darling,” Aziraphale repeats and it makes Crowley’s whole-body shudder because that is just _Plain Dirty._ “I could lose myself in you for eons, so wrapped up in all your beauty and splendour.” The angel punctuates this commentary with a hiking up of his knee, pressing thigh muscle against very sensitive flesh clothed in layers. Bloody buggering layers.

Crowley _keens_.

“I rather think I ought to do just that, don’t you?” Aziraphale continues, polite to the end of all things, and it does things to Crowley that not even the angel’s lips on his neck, mouthing at heated skin seem to achieve. It makes him thrash against the body pressing against him, pinning him effectively and securely, and Crowley’s movements only serve to make that thigh pressing against him all the more agonising.

He rather loves it.

“A-a-angel,” he hisses out, eyes shut tight as he loses a battle with his own body, fingers digging in to plush velvet and wool made soft by wear. 

“Yes dear?” Aziraphale queries and it’s very much Unfair how controlled and calm and collected the angel sounds when Crowley is coming apart at the seems from some compliments and a damned thigh pressing against him. Bloody unfair. “What do you need my most wily serpent?”

 _That_ gets a higher-pitched moan from Crowley and a desperate thrust of hips while fingers try to scramble for more purchase, control, support- _anything_ to hold on to as fire and heat and burning sensation claws at him. Assorted deities but this angel is out to fucking kill him!

“A-a-zzziraphale! I-I-” he can’t get the words out. He can’t get them out and he doesn’t even know what they’d be if he did because he can’t _think_. He can only _feel_. “I can’t- oh- I- please.”

“Please what, my most sly and adoring darling?” Aziraphale presses, dragging him through six different kinds of hell and torturing him more effectively than any angelic being has a right to be capable of. 

Crowley thrashes again, head slamming against the wall hard enough to make him dizzy and the brick-and-mortar crack from the force. Aziraphale immediately pushes a hand behind his head, cushioning it from the wall gently even as his fingers thread through red hair and _tighten_.

Crowley isn’t going to survive this. He’s going to die. He’s going to die because he started this and he’s impulsive and he always starts things and he always finishes them but this- _this_ isn’t something he can handle. This is so much. _Too much._

He can’t- he just- he’s-

The thigh eases off against him and Crowley’s body chases it before his sloppy, sensation-destroyed mind even processes it, but it’s replaced by a firm hand that pushes against hips and undoes buttons and zipper with casual confidence of a Skilled Person At This Sort Of Thing and that just sends Crowley off on another path to self-destruction.

That same hand is in his trousers and around him in less time than it takes Crowley’s heart jack-hammering away to take a beat and he’s trembling and keening and begging and shaking from the touch and the sensation and that Unending Heat that is just Aziraphale. 

“Oh how lovely you look for me darling,” Aziraphale murmurs into his ear, lips touching the shell of it and warm breaths shifting strands of hair and making his scalp tingle. The fingers twined around his hair pulls just as fingers around his cock pull on the head and Crowley’s knees go weak even as his hips try and thrust into that lovely contact. “All desperate and begging for me. I do so love how undone you become. It’s like holding art in my hands.”

Compliments. Praise. Touch. Love.

It’s all too much for Crowley. It always has been when it comes from his angel. From Aziraphale.

It’s all too much and Crowley _dies_.

He comes in a moment, eyes opening wide at the way it tears through him, every nerve electrified, skin and heart and lungs burning at it all. Aziraphale’s hand around his cock keeps up a steady, unyielding pace that drags more and more from him and has Crowley keening and hissing and mewing at the continued sensation and the fire and the heat.

The hand in his hair releases, shifts and slides down to his neck and it’s comforting and tender and it’s enough to angle Crowley’s head so Aziraphale can kiss him. It’s such a gentle kiss, so soft and loving and kind that it makes Crowley’s eyes sting. His body is a broken, shuddering mess, but in Aziraphale’s embrace that’s okay. More than, in fact.

Aziraphale releases his cock and snaps his fingers, miracling away the mess Crowley’s made, before he lets go of Crowley’s neck and uses both hands to tuck him back inside his trousers and do them up. Crowley is left to lean against the wall, panting as his body draws in oxygen it does and doesn’t need. 

“Well, dear,” Aziraphale says as he takes a step back and Crowley’s attention is drawn to the angel’s crotch. He licks his lips. “We ought be on our way now, I have a new book arriving later and I’d hate to miss it.”

And then the More Than Just A Little Bit Of A Bastard walks away leaving Crowley to push himself away from the wall, stumble on weak legs, and follow after the angel who looks for all the world like nothing has just happened between them.

“You’re a right bastard when you want to be angel,” Crowley says and his voice is a little rough, a little raw and breaking on the vowels.

Aziraphale looks at him, smiling all innocently “I know dear,” he says and the smile turns smug and a little devious. “Just like you can be a right pleasure to handle when you need to be.”

Crowley has died. He has died and come back to life and died again and the whole time through it has been Aziraphale killing him and reviving him. 

Fucking hell but Crowley wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I _love_ Crowley having a praise kink and being totally a bottom and Aziraphale being the Nicest Toppiest Top ever. Fight me ~~pls don't~~
> 
> ~~As always, comments and kudos sustain me :)~~


End file.
